


conversation sixteen

by khnk



Category: W.I.T.C.H.
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 09:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15240024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khnk/pseuds/khnk
Summary: “What if she's trying to radiation poisoning us with her stare? Or something like that.” Irma asks one day, because apparently pestering Cornelia with questions that make no sense is better than reading the boring science notes she's supposed to study.Cornelia doesn't even bother to reply.





	conversation sixteen

**Author's Note:**

> Title stolen from conversation sixteen @ The National.  
> self indulgent, but ehh, what you gonna do.

Cornelia hates, hates Irma with all of her heart because she's an horrible, insufferable person who can't be bothered to put the milk back in the fridge (or worse, the rare times she’ll remember she'll put in the empty bottle) and loves to steal all the clothes she can, from skirts to shoes to bags.  At least it doesn't bother Cornelia as much as the milk because it means that for once she doesn't have to be associated with someone that thinks that not only wearing a sleeveless shirt on top of a long sleeved shirt is acceptable (it is not) but also cool (it is, again, _not._ ) The only downside this clothing sharing thing has is that sometimes they'll wear matching clothes without meaning to and Hay Lin will raise a brow like she knows something they don't and Irma's so sure she's secretly practicing a killing stare on them. Cornelia agrees. Hay Lin questioning glances should not give her chills down her spine, wouldn't make her sweat if there wasn't something strange about it. It figures she's just trying to perfect her Yan Li impression.

“What if she's trying to radiation poisoning us with her stare? Or something like that.” Irma asks one day, because apparently pestering Cornelia with questions that make no sense is better than reading the boring science notes she's supposed to study.  
Cornelia doesn't even bother to reply. First of all, it's not...scientifically plausible. Sure, they’ve started to do things well outside the realm of physics but she's pretty sure what Irma theorized isn't possible. Wouldn't the radiation kill Hay Lin first? And also, Hay Lin can control air, why would she kill them with something as boring as radiation poisoning when she could send them flying against a wall with the flick of a wrist? What a stupid question.  
“Do you think she knows?” Irma asks, again. Now she's giving up on the pretense of studying and is stretching on the chair, feet propped up on the desk. Cornelia feels a vein popping in her brain.  
“Know what, exactly?” Cornelia gives in, finally giving Irma the attention she so much craves. Her tone's firm, an aftertaste of annoyed laced in every word but her hands are shaking.  
Irma spins on the chair. “Dunno.” she mutters and when she trips on the carpet, Cornelia scowls.  “That I don't really think that you are a pretentious asshole, 'ya know.”  
“I guess everyone knows by now, dumbass.” Ok, so, Irma wants to ignore the elephant in the room. It's fine. Cornelia can work with ignoring problems, is pretty good at it, actually. Irma keeps on running around with the chair and Cornelia just wants to kill her for a multitude of reasons, the slaughtering of her carpet with a chair not the main.   
“Wait, did you use to think I'm a pretentious asshole?” she asks because the silence is heavy between them and bantering is what they do best.  
Irma laughs, throwing her pencil and almost breaking the lamp on the nightstand. “I still do.”  
Cornelia retaliates with a rubber that hits Irma square in the forehead. “There's a difference, you uncultured swine. I'm sophisticated, not pretentious.”  
Irma makes a funny face. “There's not, Corny.”  
“There is”  
“There's not!”  
“Look the definition up on the dictionary if you must!”  
“'s not, I tell 'ya”  
It's an easy bickering, one that comes natural and that has quite a funky rhythm to it and that goes on until Irma can't find any more ways to abbreviate the word “no”.

“Coorny let me copy your notes.” Irma begs when she glances at the clock. It's already getting late. “I can't get another bad grade, please.”  
To further demonstrate the lengths she's willing to go she falls from the chair to the floor in one swift motion, kneeling in front of Cornelia and making puppy eyes at her, occasionally nuzzling her head against Cornelia's leg like a little kitten begging for food. It's a strange mixture of pathetic and endearing, weird enough to be funny and heartfelt enough to make Cornelia's stomach sink a little bit every time Irma's hair tickle her leg.  
“You should have copied them earlier.” Still not cute enough to grant her the notes.  
“But I was distracted by your pretty face.”  
Cornelia sighs. “Flattery will get you nowhere Miss Lair.” she says and it’s not the first time she’s been called pretty but it makes her blush a little. She tosses her notes at Irma, who catches them.  
“You are the best Corny!”  
“I know, I know.”  
“I just love you so much Corny!” and with that Irma is sprinting up, planting a wet, sloppy kiss on Cornelia’s cheek. It’s quite disgusting and she makes a face, just to underline the concept.  
She wipes her cheek with the back of her hand. “Please stop acting like an overly-affectionate dog.”  
“Woof.”  
“I said stop it.”  
“Or what, you’ll hire Hay Lin and her radioactive stare to kill me?”  
Cornelia scowls, her brows knitted and her lips pressed together tightly. “No, I’d rather do it myself.”  
Irma pretends to be hurt, but her grin’s still visible on her lips when she says “No you won’t. You love me too much.”  
“Yeah.” Cornelia deadpans and that’s as far as an admission she’ll ever make. Her gaze is fixed on the books on her desk, but she can’t read a word that’s written on it. Everything is blurry. Irma flops down on Cornelia’s bed and stays there, sprawled and silent.

  
Outside, it’s starting to rain pretty hard. Some street lights have stopped working and the rain is now hitting constantly against the window.  
“Do you think I could spend the night?” Irma asks, and her tone is careful, like she’s finally noticed the shift in mood. “Dad would kill me for walking alone in this weather. And I don’t want to get soaked.”  
“Aren’t you like, the water guardian? Shouldn’t you like, you know, water?” there’s something resembling spite in Cornelia’s words.  
“You said it yourself, water, not pneumonia.” Irma retorts. Cornelia wishes Hay Lin stares could kill, so she could run at her restaurant and die a much less painful death. That, or the pneumonia she’ll undoubtedly catch if she runs outside in the storm with only the thin cotton shirt she’s wearing. Either are fine at this point, really.  
“Fine.” she gives in, head hitting the desk. “It’s the fifth time this week.” Cornelia notes and before Irma can be hurt for real she adds “Not that I mind.” Irma smiles, and it's a genuine one. Cornelia smiles back.

“See, Miss Hale? Flattery brought me somewhere. In your bed, more precisely.” Irma says, once she’s called her parents, changed into a pajama with sleeves too long for her and crawled in bed next to Cornelia.  
“Keep this up and I’ll make you sleep on the floor.” Cornelia mutters into the pillow, grateful for the fact that Irma can’t see her blush in the dark. “Now, sleep.”  
“Yeah, yeah Corny. Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you while you sleep?” Irma asks.  
Cornelia turns around to face her and sure, she doesn’t have Hay Lin radioactive stare or whatever but the scowl painted on her face is resembling a murdering stare pretty accurately.  
“Nah, you love me too much.”  
“Yeah.”  
Cornelia falls asleep with a smile on her face, a perfect copy of Irma’s.

When they wake up, legs tangled and Irma’s hand stuck in her hair, Cornelia hates, hates Irma with all of her heart because she's an horrible, insufferable person who can't be bothered to stay on her side of the bed when sleeping or to put the milk back in the fridge or to not steal the clothes she wanted to wear.

When Irma hugs her, hands still sticky with chocolate and the smell of morning breath tainting every word she says, nuzzling her head in the crook of Cornelia’s shoulder in an attempt to remove the sleep dust from her eyes, Cornelia hates her just a bit less.

(When it turns out that Irma has left a permanent chocolate stain on her favourite shirt, Cornelia really, really hates Irma a lot.)

**Author's Note:**

> tiptoeing the fine line between friendship and lesbianism.


End file.
